


Afterglow

by profanedaisychain



Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén
Genre: Fallen Hero: Retribution Spoilers, Herald goes by his civilian name in this ficlet, Other, did not expect to love Herald as much as I do now, just a short cutesy thing I wrote after playing the Alpha, masturbation mention but it's barely even a thing so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27012037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/profanedaisychain/pseuds/profanedaisychain
Summary: Herald spends his Saturday afternoon reminiscing about Friday night. More accurately - about you.
Relationships: Herald/Sidestep (Fallen Hero)
Kudos: 32





	Afterglow

* * *

  
When you leave Daniel's apartment, it's in his arms by way of the roof. You moaned and groaned a little about the indignity of it all, but he knows it was mostly for show. Mostly that cutting edge of yours, the one that keeps a distance between you and everyone else.

You lost that edge in his apartment, but the moment you were on the roof, staring out over the city, it came roaring back.

On the street below Daniel's apartment, you right your clothes and brush a hand over your hair, looking annoyed. Daniel is reasonably sure it's a coping mechanism, a front, so he doesn't let it sting.

Even if it had stung, though, it wouldn't stay that way for long; you step closer, into Daniel's space, pressing a kiss to his lips. A hint of tongue against the seam of his mouth, tasting like coffee. 

Daniel opens to your insistent touch. He moans into you without intending to, body pressing against yours without a single hesitation and _God_ he loves this.

You do this to him without even trying. 

And then you nip his lower lip -not hard, not enough to do anything other than twinge- before pulling back with a smug glint in your eyes. "I'll see you later."

Daniel forces himself to stay composed. No jumping at the hint of a repeat. No floating. No flushing. Just a giant grin he can't contain even if he wants to.

(Which he doesn't because his smile always makes you smile, and there's something about seeing you reciprocating his joy that makes his insides flutter.)

"Are you sure you don't want a lift home?" Daniel asks even though he knows you'll decline. You're still not used to flying. You still go stiff in his arms when he picks you up. You still let out a stuttered breath, a small cry, whenever you leave rooftops.

(You 'died' by falling from a building. He hasn't made that connection yet. He hasn't made the connection between flying and falling, ground rushing up, breath stuttering out.)

Your smirk is a predatory thing - one that made him come undone more than once last night. "Always so eager," you note, sliding your sunglasses into place. Daniel instantly misses the intensity of your gaze. "You don't get to see my lair just yet, flyboy."

Daniel can't help that his grin widens, that he hovers for the slightest of seconds, that his cheeks are hot and it has nothing to do with Los Diablos' unyielding sun. 

You said _yet_.

You turn away, nimbly plucking a cigarette from your jacket pocket, lighting it with dexterous fingers. And then you're illegally crossing the busy street, zipping between vehicles like you have a damned deathwish.

Daniel watches. He watches until you disappear into a crowd on the other side of the avenue, pulling the cigarette from your kiss-swollen mouth.

(Daniel thinks you might be moving like this, hypnotic and unnecessarily dangerous, for his viewing pleasure.

You are, but you'll never admit it.)

Daniel doesn't stop himself from the excited hovering now that you're out of sight. It makes a few passers-by startle, but he doesn't notice. He's not sure if he'll be able to notice anything for the rest of the weekend.

He zips up to the roof; he's in a daze while he moves around the apartment. Not too long ago, you were here, in his home, sharing his life.

 _You_. 

He cleans the dishes by hand just to have something to do with his buzzing fingertips. Pent up energy is making him restless, but his mind is cloud-soft and blush-pink, much too scattered for a lap around the city. 

You, despite your long history of sidestepping commitment, were here with him. You, who hasn't given Ortega anything close to an answer about your feelings, chose to come _here_. Chose to commit. 

To Daniel.

You went to dinner, you came to his apartment. You drank, threw your glass, stripped down, and bared your soul. Showed yourself to be the most real person Daniel has ever known.

He hesitates while drying the dishes. It's easy to gloss over the worst parts of last night. How angry you were. How much you wanted him to hate you. How you dared him to keep looking at you. Looking at what -you felt- marked you as a _thing_.

To hell with those tattoos. Those fucking things don't mean anything. 

But the scars do. The scars say so much more about your humanity, your soul, than anything else can.

Daniel finishes with the dishes. He stares at where you sat, eating pancakes, flushed and happy. You looked so much younger - at peace.

It hurts how much he wants to make you happy. How much he wants to see your face every morning. Waking up to you curled under his arm. How much he loves the idea of making breakfast for you every weekend while you move through the kitchen, kissing his neck, teasing him with 'accidental' touches. 

It stings how much he wants to see you when you aren't happy. When you're pissed off after a fight with Ortega. When you're riled up, anxious, pacing, swallowing down your urge to lash out. When you're fucking _furious_.

Because maybe he can smile, and perhaps it will be enough. Maybe it will cool your temper or reassure you. Will help you see yourself how he sees you.

He starts the shower and steps in, the torrent of hot water making him shiver despite himself. 

It doesn't take long for his innocent thoughts to turn less so. Thoughts of your mouth on him, your commanding presence - so sure of yourself, so in tune with what you wanted, what _he_ wanted.

(But all he wanted was you for as long as he could hold onto you.)

He can still hear your moans. Can still feel you hands in his hair - grabbing, tugging, baring his throat.

(There are so many love bites on his neck and shoulders, some too dark and too high for his collars to hide. Maybe too dark for makeup. He thinks you might have done it purposely, marked him as yours, and he doesn't mind it at all.)

Daniel gives in, runs his hand down his body, forehead against the cold shower tile. He gets too close too fast because it's all so fresh, how you moved and looked and sounded. How you were everything he could have hoped for - more.

So much more.

* * *


End file.
